Escape
by deceptive-serenade
Summary: The problem with having power was the potential of being alone when you lost it. Draco/Astoria


**Escape**

The problem with having power was the potential of being alone when you lost it.

**(One-Shot)**

_For Janice._

They were best friends.

Draco Malfoy used to view Astoria Greengrass as that girl who would play with him. When they were younger and all the parents would get together for tea, he was often left out when they were playing games, like Quidditch and Exploding Snap. He was just that skinny, blond-haired boy who had anger issues and nobody wanted to talk to.

(He realized later that he also took the other children's candy and was extremely rude to them.)

He knew deep down it was because he was a bully and always had his father's support in his actions, but he didn't care. As soon as the sons and daughters of the pure blood families were old enough to understand the meaning of blood and social status, Draco was king - and he bloody well liked it that way.

But before they were old enough to understand, Draco was left out. Always. No matter how much he cried to his father about it, there wasn't much Lucius Malfoy could do about those children who wouldn't let him play. The bully was the one who was formerly left out of the games, and it made him bitter.

Astoria was that one girl who would sneak away from the group to play with him. If they were playing hide-and-seek, she would hide where Draco was, since no one ever looked there, and played Wizard's Chess with him for hours.

(She always beat him. He resented that.)

Astoria was one of those girls who was overlooked because of her older, prettier sister Daphne, and though she wasn't left out, the other children would often forget about her.

So Draco knew her as that girl who would play with him when no one else would. She would calm him down from his temper tantrums (because even at the age of six, he knew not to be around his parents for those) by offering him sweets. When they grew older and Draco became the bully he was destined to be, he would conveniently "forget" Astoria was there.

As far as he was concerned, Crabbe and Goyle were never his friends. He had only one best friend, even if they never talked.

Really, their conversations were so sparse, it was as though they never happened at all. She was two years younger, so they barely said "hello" when Draco would come back from Hogwarts. When she started school, they wouldn't even acknowledge each other in the halls.

But there were those moments. Draco's smile when Astoria was sorted into Slytherin. How he would, again, conveniently forget she was there when he was bullying younger students. When he found her crying, she would find sweets under her pillow later that evening.

Things like that.

And although she never was quite able to pay him back at the time, she found a way.

* * *

It had to have started in sixth year.

Draco had subconsciously known Astoria was quite clever for her age, being able to calm him down when she was only four, but truly realized it when instead of ignoring each other in the halls as they usually did, she began to stare him down.

At first, he thought she was looking at something behind him – but there wasn't anything there! They would lock eyes, and he would tilt his head with a questioning expression. She only bit her lip – something she always did when she was thinking. It was really confusing.

But he had better things to think about than his best friend's strange looks towards him. His father was in jail. The darkest wizard of all time was after his family and commanded Draco to somehow kill the greatest wizard of all time. Who just _happened_ to be Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts.

Really. His best friend wasn't on his mind.

Except that she was, and it was so strange how this subtle change in their friendship caught his attention. She didn't always have freckles, did she? Were her eyes always this bright, shocking blue? How did her dark hair shine like that? Perhaps he hadn't really wanted to kill Dumbledore anyway, but in a way, his heart wasn't in his mission because this girl had taken it.

And the worst part was that he never really talked to her. Ever. So _how_ exactly did she seem to occupy his mind? She was just a stupid little fourth year, after all. One that would abashedly glare at him in the hallways, scrutinizing and studying him. Like she had him all figured out.

Draco would snort at that thought. Right. Like that would ever happen.

But as the year went on, things were changing. His father was still in jail. He wasn't so confident he could carry out the mission anymore, and Crabbe and Goyle were starting to get suspicious of his activities – and they were _idiots_! He was going to get caught, he knew he was, and he was scared and couldn't sleep because he was supposed to have killed Dumbledore by now and the Dark Lord was getting angrier and he loved his mum and dad and really didn't want them to die if he couldn't do this and he was failing his classes because he wasn't doing his homework because he was _trying_, he really was, but he just felt so tired all the time and Merlin, he really, really, _really _didn't want to die –

This was about the time he would break down crying.

And somehow, she knew.

It was in the middle of Christmas holidays. His mother held their annual ball; nothing could ever cease that tradition, but there was no denying it was half-hearted. The house elves did their magic and the hall was beautiful and the food was delicious, but there was a strange atmosphere in the air.

More than anything, it was inferiority.

But it wasn't from the Malfoy's side, as he was used to.

His mother was frustrated with Draco. Between his refusal (more like inability) to eat more and to come out of his room or the library, it was clear she missed her husband and couldn't deal with the fact that Draco wasn't his father. He really couldn't do anything about that, as much as he loved his mother.

But after everything he'd gone through thus far in trying to kill his headmaster, he couldn't help but be frustrated with everyone else. How did they get off so easily? Why was it his family that was being tortured like this?

And looking over the balcony at the shiny hall full of people dancing that just pretended like everything was dandy, he couldn't but become even more exasperated. Why did people refuse to see what was in front of their own eyes? Why were they so fake?

Furthermore, why did blood status exist? He'd been following it as long as he could remember, but now he couldn't remember why. Its logic was paper-thin. Your status in society depended not on what you did or how you acted, but on who you were related to and how closely they were related to Salazar Slytherin. What was the point? Sure, everyone had been in the house, but why did it matter?

He watched those faces as they talked and ate and drank and danced. Escaped. How thick was blood, really? How many people did he know that would defend Draco when he was on the brink of death?

His blood ran cold, and he quickly took a swing of firewhiskey. And another. And another. Anything to warm himself, to stop thinking like that, because he wasn't going to fail, he couldn't, not when his family was on the line –

Tears escaped from his eyes. He was too weak to stop them.

"Draco?"

He choked on his drink and quickly turned away, wiping his eyes in a way that he hoped was subtle. A hand had begun to thump his back as he coughed.

Merlin, this was embarrassing.

"Astoria," he gasped, turning around and hoping to Merlin that she hadn't seen him crying. She was there. Mere centimetres away. Talking to him. When was the last time they'd honest-to-Merlin _talked_ to each other? Why did she care?

And yet, there she was. Standing in her flowy dress with some sort of floral pattern and holding a virgin martini in her hand, her hair curled and her freckles standing visibly across her nose. Draco felt his face burn.

This was definitely cradle robbing.

To his surprise, Astoria didn't answer but reached over with her free hand over to his cheek. He was too shocked to step away; he just let her trace her thumb across his cheek, catching a stray tear.

_Dammit._

"So," she began softly, retracting her hand, "ready to tell me what's going on?"

He felt as if he'd been stunned. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She shrugged, as though she already knew – but she didn't. That's why she was asking. It must've been her last resort because she couldn't figure it out. "You've lost a lot of weight," she commented offhandedly.

"Maybe I needed to."

"You were already scrawny."

"I was _not _–"

"You're also pale," she added, touching his cheek. Draco swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to slow his heartbeat. Her hand was warm and sending vibrations and shivers down his spine. How did she do that?

"Just a little under the weather."

"You've got bags under your eyes."

"Busy studying."

"Draco," she said firmly, brushing a hand under his eye and catching another tear. "Why are you always crying? What's wrong?"

He was shaking. It was as though everyone had noticed, but no one had cared enough to ask. Even his own mother hadn't asked – just commanded he eat, drink and sleep. Most people were scared of him, and he didn't blame them. They should be frightened. He was a bully and tormented people and demanded the worst of them. The problem with having power, unfortunately, was the potential of being alone when you lost it.

She grasped his hand and pulled him towards the staircase, climbing up the stairs to his room. They used to do this when they were little; escape to their own little world in Draco's bedroom, where they had played games and told secrets and talked about the others behind their backs.

There was nothing at all suggestive about it; he was on the verge of tears, after all. Astoria leading him there made him nostalgic, and even if Draco only spent holidays in his bedroom, he was still possessive over it. He immediately pulled out of her grip and began straightening things.

Astoria sat down on his bed, shaking her head and smiling to herself. "Same old Draco."

He paused before piling to papers on his desk. "You don't know that."

"You're right, I don't." Her shoes slipped off and hit the floor and she crossed her legs. "I don't know what this is. We haven't talked in years, really."

"Since I was nine," he murmured, feeling a pang of guilt. "You were seven."

"I still think of you as my best friend, you know."

"I – really?" he asked, looking up at her in surprise. She nodded. "So do I."

She smiled wider. It was infectious. He smiled, too.

* * *

They didn't really talk that night. Astoria made Draco feel flustered as he picked up his things – but mostly by simply _being_ there. He didn't tell her about him becoming a Death Eater or his failing mission or his lack of true friends. Somehow, Astoria had sensed that he hadn't really wanted to share any information.

They didn't sit awkwardly in his room all night, either. Draco literally sat backwards in his chair, chin perched on the back, staring and listening to her speak. He was mesmerized. He didn't really like giggly girls, and while Astoria wasn't one, she could talk if she wanted to. When they were little, it was often him telling his secrets. He liked to talk about himself.

He could tell that Astoria didn't really like to talk about herself, but she did it anyway. Maybe she felt like she owed it to him. He didn't really know much about her, really, but that night, it was as though she had completely opened up to him.

She loved to draw more than anything in the world. Her room, which Draco had only seen when he was little, had become a gallery of her art, and though her parents were supportive, they didn't exactly love that she'd drawn a mural on the wall. She loved her family, but Hogwarts was her home. On Sunday mornings, she loved waking up to a quiet house, and even if it was raining outside, she would take a walk and then come back and sneak a bowl of cereal up to her room and curl up in bed with a book. She didn't believe in blood status or the Dark Lord. She believed in love.

And he realized that completely opening up to someone was a way of trusting them. Maybe she was the better Slytherin – after all, she didn't tell him her secrets until he was in an inferior position – but that didn't change his mind. In fact, it made him admire her so much more.

In a way, he wasn't ready to open up again. He didn't know how she would take it, and frankly, he was afraid that he'd lose his only true friend he had. Sure, he could probably tell Crabbe and Goyle, but they wouldn't understand like she would.

_One day, _he told himself. _One day._

But she was still there for him.

He was being bullied again.

* * *

They had begun meeting in secret. Well, not _secret_, per se, but somewhere where they could both get away from everyone, and no one exactly knew about it. They found the hidden balcony on the sixth floor and more than suitable, especially when they cast a heating charm around it.

They talked and studied, mostly. For Draco, it was as though his worries and stress melted away when he was around her. Astoria said she found a peace of mind in being around him that she couldn't find anywhere else.

It was an escape.

Draco never told her. He had tried to, of course – too many times to count – but it seemed as though it never made it out of his mouth, like it was stuck there. He wanted to tell her why he was always in the Room of Requirement and why he was nicking polyjuice potion from the dungeons. He wanted to tell her why he talked to Myrtle and not to her when he was crying. He wanted to tell her why he cried.

And he definitely wanted to tell her how he felt about her, in case he couldn't.

But it seemed that it was the one thing he hadn't even come close to telling her. It wasn't as though he didn't want to, but he was afraid that the Dark Lord would target Astoria, too. It was different if they weren't dating. Draco was afraid that if he failed his mission… no, he wasn't going to think about that.

He didn't know how she'd react to it. Any of it.

So he didn't tell her.

As it turned out, he didn't need to.

* * *

Draco never really liked the Astronomy Tower – actually, he just didn't like the subject and the climb up there. He thought it was stupid to analyze stars, and yes, it was true that his whole family was named after constellations, but he didn't care. He still thought it was stupid. And now he would remember the tower for a completely different reason.

This was it.

He was going to kill Dumbledore.

"_Morsemodre,_" he whispered, the incantation falling off his lips. It was like smoke rising from the tip of his wand, swirling in circles until they formed the skull. The snake slid out of its mouth. Draco shuddered.

He didn't linger; he sprinted back down the stairs towards the Room of Requirement. After tinkering and testing all year, he'd finally managed to mend the Vanishing Cabinet. He felt he should be proud. After all, this was what led the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, so they could take over. So they could kill Dumbledore. So they could make a statement.

Honestly speaking, however, Draco loathed the lot of them. He loved his parents, of course. His Aunt Bellatrix had taught him Occlumency. Crabbe and Goyle's parents were all right. But the rest of them - the Carrows, Greyback, Yaxley... they scared the shit of out him. Not that he would admit it to them. He didn't want to think of what they would do that night.

"Draco!" He stopped in his tracks at the sound of Astoria's voice. He'd forgotten about her – bloody hell, she needed to be safe. He turned around and she flew into his arms.

"Erm..." He didn't know what to think. She'd never hugged him before. Not since they were kids and he'd cried in front of her. He hadn't outright cried in her presence since then. "Are you okay?"

"I've been looking for you everywhere! I don't know what's going on," she whispered. She was shaking. He held on tight. "I think I'm going mad, there are people in cloaks and Death Eater masks downstairs!"

Draco swallowed. "Astoria..."

She buried her face into his shoulder. "Tell me they're not real. Please."

"I... I can't."

She stilled, and his heart sank. "Draco..."

"They're here -"

"Because of you." He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and holding on tighter, in case she'd let go. To his surprise, she twisted violently in his arms and attacked him, slamming him against the wall and yanking on his sleeve.

"What the hell?" he demanded, trying to fight her off. She resisted and ripped the buttons on his cuff and pulled the sleeve up. As soon as he realized what she was doing, he twisted away - but not before Astoria caught a glimpse of it. She stepped back.

The Dark Mark.

"I knew it," she whispered, speaking more to herself than Draco. "I _knew_ it."

Draco heard rumblings from the floor below. "Astoria, you have to find somewhere to hide. Not the Common Room. Don't go into classrooms. Don't stay in the corridors. Just stay out of sight for the rest of the night."

"Draco -"

"_Please,_" he begged. He'd never said that before.

The next thing he knew, she'd wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her eyes into his neck, letting out shaky gasps as she sobbed. Draco felt like something inside him was breaking in pieces. He'd made his best friend cry. She never cried. She was always the strong one.

"Don't kill him, Draco," she mumbled. He closed his eyes. "I know that's what the Dark Lord told you to do, but please don't kill Dumbledore. I'd lose hope."

The rumblings were getting louder. "How did you know?"

"You're not a murderer," she said. "You're easy to track. I figured it out in November."

"You've known this entire -"

_BOOM._

The ground shook around them, bringing Draco back to his senses. He was on a mission. He had to go. Dumbledore could be back any minute to break up the chaos, but he had to catch him before that. Kill him before that.

"I know it's selfish," Astoria whispered, retreating back wiping her eyes, "but I don't think I could stand it if your heart was ripped apart like that."

Draco heard screaming. It echoed in his ears. "Astoria, please hide."

"No -"

"Please!"

"I can't just _hide_ knowing you're never coming back!"

"I'll come back, I promise!" he found himself saying. Draco never promised things. It meant he had to commit to something and follow through. He grabbed her hands anyway. "Go to the Owlery. I'll meet you there. I promise."

Astoria studied him for a painful moment before nodding, kissing his cheek and sprinting down towards the noise. As he headed back towards the Astronomy Tower, it was her he prayed for. Not himself. _Please let her make it there. Safe._

He never made it to the Owlery.

* * *

"You bloody _coward._"

"I'm sorry!"

"Sorry isn't good enough."

"I wanted to go," Draco said desperately, keeping Astoria's bedroom door open with his foot and resisting her efforts. She was still on the other side, back to the door and pushing. "I couldn't. Everything was chaotic. I didn't know what else to do."

"I trusted you."

"I know, and -"

"Do you know how it _felt_?" she asked piercingly. "Do you know how it felt to be stuck up there, watching Hagrid's hut burn down and all these Death Eaters running around and not knowing if my friends were all right or what was going on, but then depending on the fact that you would be there? And then you never came? I thought you were hurt."

"But I -"

"I stayed up there for hours and hours." She paused. "You let me down."

Draco hated how emotionless her words were, cutting him as though someone had dragged a knife though his body. "I didn't mean to. I swear."

"You killed Dumbledore."

"Snape killed him."

"You disarmed Dumbledore, that's good enough!" she shouted, emotion flooding back into her voice. She sounded as though she was on the verge of tears. "It's your fault he's dead. It's your fault that Voldemort is going to kill everyone now." She slammed on his foot and he retracted it. The door shut.

He sighed and leaned his back on the door, sliding to the ground. "Don't say his name."

"Or _what_?"

"Or he'll come after you, that's what!" he snapped. She didn't say anything. "Why do you think I didn't tell you anything? The Dark Lord knows everything. He knows who isn't scared of him."

"He won't come after me."

"Why not?"

"I'm a pure blood. There's no point in killing me."

"Do you think he cares who he kills?"

There was a long silence.

"Are you scared he'll kill me?" she asked in a small voice.

"Don't be so naive."

"_Are_ you?"

He sighed. "Out of my mind."

* * *

The next time he came, she kept the door shut again. He resorted to keep trying.

"How are you? What have you been up to other than slamming doors in my face? Been outside lately? You nervous for your OWLs yet? Do you know what you want to do? Draw anything interesting?"

Nothing.

"The Dark Lord set up headquarters at my home."

He heard a sharp inhale at that. "He did?"

"Yeah..." He scratched the back of his neck. He should've known that was what would get her to talk. "He's not there, usually, but he comes and leaves. Mostly Aunt Bellatrix and Yaxley and other Death Eaters are always around. Mum hates it."

She sighed. "How is your mum doing? Still upset that your father..."

"Yeah, she is." Draco didn't want to mention she was a nervous wreck with her husband in Azkaban. "I expect he'll be out soon, though."

"Why do you say that?"

He paused. "I'm not allowed to say."

"Then leave."

* * *

"Come on, Astoria."

"Go away."

"You can't keep this up forever."

"Watch me."

"I have something for you."

"I don't care."

"It's really nice."

"Still don't care."

Draco sighed and tried knocking again. It had been three weeks since Dumbledore's death and Astoria point-blank refused to see him. For a few days he tried to function normally, but he couldn't; he didn't feel at home or safe in his own bedroom, where he grew up. His mother was unbearable to be around. Death Eaters weren't exactly the best company.

He spent most of his days knocking on Astoria's door. He missed her. She was that one person who made him forget, made him feel better and made his heart beat faster when he just wished he could hold her again like he did that night. Sometimes he could still feel her lips on his cheek.

He was such a goner.

"Merlin, Draco, what do you want?" she asked in a strained, defeated voice. "You're ruining my birthday."

"I am not. I'm your best friend."

"You _were_."

"You're still mine." Even though he meant it as friendship, he felt as though his cheeks were about to burst into flames.

There was a long silence before - and Draco couldn't believe it - she opened the door. He drank her in greedily; she wore some sort of summer dress and her hair was down and she smelled good and -

Astoria crossed her arms against her chest. "You fancy me, don't you?"

He tried to speak, but nothing came out.

She groaned and yanked him inside, shutting the door behind them and taking the present that was in his outstretched hand. While she unwrapped it, he took the opportunity to look around her room.

Astoria wasn't lying; her walls were splashed with colour and paintings and picture frames and drawings. There was a bed in one corner, a dresser beside it and a large canvas in the other corner. The mural she'd painted on the wall was of Hogwarts. He felt as though he'd been slapped in the face with the beautiful work.

"I feel like I'm in a different world," he muttered. She cracked a grin.

"You got me a new sketchbook."

"Sort of..." He reached over and opened the leather case. "It's a reusable case with a pad of parchment already in there. There's a place for your quill."

"Wow."

"Happy birthday."

She looked back up at him, trying to meet his eyes. He kept them on her freckles. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you fancy me."

He ducked his head. "I think the Dark Lord would target you. He already hates me."

"You know what I think?"

"What?"

She gathered herself, standing straight and locking his gaze. "You're not important enough to hate," she declared, aiming straight for his ego. "He wants to punish your family, sure. That's why he's taken your home. But he's not targeting you specifically."

He only stared at her. She smiled. "You know what your problem is, Draco?"

"What?"

She poked him in the chest. He winced. "You're just a bloody cow who thinks the world revolves around him. Voldemort never thought you would kill Dumbledore. He never believed in you, because even he knows that you're not a murderer."

Draco blinked. "Don't you mean 'coward'?"

She poked him again, and he lost balance, falling on her bed. "That too."

And then, somehow, impossibly, _incredibly,_ her hair was falling around them on her bed and her lips were on his and she tasted like cake and smelled like summer and his hands were in her hair and their bodies were intertwined and she just felt so right and amazing and perfect.

Yep, he was definitely a goner.

* * *

"I wish you'd told me sooner," she told him. Astoria's mum had already called her down three times, but they were still lying in bed after snogging. She intertwined her hand in his. "I've fancied you ever since I could remember."

He shrugged. "So you're in love with me."

"Arrogant prat," she teased, hitting him lightly on the arm but not denying it. He loved how the blush tinged her cheeks. How had he not noticed it before? Draco pulled her close and pressed his lips against her neck.

"Draco?" He responded with incoherent mumbling. "What's going to happen? Dumbledore's gone. What's Hogwarts going to be like?"

He removed his lips from her skin to survey her, eyes locked together. "If I tell you... you can't tell anyone. Not your parents or your sister or your friends. Nobody. And you _can't_ get involved."

She quickly nodded in agreement.

"The Dark Lord is planning to take over the ministry," he whispered, glancing to the door to make sure it was shut. "They're going to kill the minister. Alecto and Amycus Carrow are teaching at Hogwarts. Muggle studies, I think. Snape is headmaster now."

Astoria closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "Tell me something that will make me want to go back." He could tell she was trying to keep calm and relax, but judging by her uneven breathing, it wasn't working. He pulled her closer.

"You're my girlfriend."

Her eyes lit up. "Are you asking?"

"Absolutely not." Her smile drooped for a second before he pinned her to the pillows, kissing her. "I'm insisting."

* * *

They dated all summer. Though they hadn't exactly gone on dates - nearly everything was closed down since Dumbledore was gone - they saw each other every day. Draco refused to let Astoria near the Malfoy Manor, so they usually went exploring the muggle towns.

Usually, Draco wouldn't have stepped foot in such places. Astoria more or less dragged him along, because for some strange reason, she had a fascination with muggles. He didn't know why, but since the wizarding towns were all shut down, he complied. For her. He was beginning to realize he'd do anything for her, really.

(Tell anyone and he would kill you.)

It was pure bliss, it was. He ignored the mist from the breeding Dementors and the fact that Quality Quidditch Supplies had been shut down and he dined with Death Eaters every night. He ignored Voldemort making appearances in his home. He ignored his mother, but that wasn't new.

He'd never realized how much of an escape Astoria was. Her laughter was something that echoed in his ears for an hour after they'd kissed goodnight. Just the smell of her calmed him.

Why did he feel this way, and of all people – why _her_?

He didn't figure it out, not even after the entire summer. All he could think of was that she was simply _Astoria_, and that was all he wanted.

* * *

It wasn't until the end of the summer that Draco realized that Astoria did indeed have him all figured out.

And that scared him.

* * *

"Where is everyone?"

Draco ripped his gaze away from Astoria and searched Platform 9 ¾ with his eyes. She was right; there were a significant number of people missing from the usual crowd, even though it was almost eleven o'clock.

"I dunno…" He strained his neck, searching the Most Wanted wizard. _Would Potter come to Hogwarts this year? _Draco concluded no. He hadn't expected him to, anyway.

Astoria was oddly quiet while loading their trunks onto the train. They'd agreed in advance to spend the train ride with their own friends as to not cause a stir, but as Astoria let go of Draco's hand and dissolved into the crowd, he regretted that decision.

He felt strangely empty.

* * *

They met up again, late at night. There were a surprising number of students still in the Slytherin Common Room, when usually deserted by that time. Draco supposed it was because of the start-of-the-year speeches. He couldn't sleep, either.

He and Astoria slipped out of the Common Room, dodging Flich the caretaker and sneaking through a crack through the front doors. Neither commented on the stars shining; Astoria only gripped Draco's hand tightly, leading him to – Hagrid's Hut?

But quite a distance before his hut, she made a sharp turn, tugging him through trees marking the edge of a cliff. She let go of his hand as they reached the secluded spot, sat down and let her bare feet dangle off the edge – thousands of feet above the lake. Draco sat beside her, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her close. She pushed herself into his chest, shaking and letting out a few tears.

"I…" She sniffed. "I can't believe that he just…"

"Me neither," Draco whispered. Snape, as headmaster, had been the last to make his speech. Even after the years of respect he'd felt towards his professor, it couldn't sooth him over the words Snape had spoken that night. He sounded brainwashed, like a Death Eater –

Like Voldemort.

He was allowing the Carrows twins – Alecto and Amycus – to teach Muggle Studies and Defense Against the Dark Arts. He didn't doubt that the Death Eaters were going to do their best to corrupt the students of Hogwarts. He would've been surprised if they didn't try.

But Snape had put them in charge of punishments.

And then enabled the use of Unforgiveable Curses on students.

Draco shut his eyes and kissed the top of Astoria's hairline. "Can you promise me something?"

"What?"

"Please stay safe." His whispered voice was quivering. "Just… be careful, don't give them a reason to target you, just lay low… okay?"

Astoria nodded. "I'm scared," she said softly.

"So am I." He was losing himself in her eyes again. He did that often. It was how intoxicating she was and her smile and just… one of the reasons he knew he was falling in love.

* * *

A selfish thought: how inconvenient.

Another selfish thought: at least he'd known what love felt like before he died.

* * *

Months had passed, and Draco had learned of the condition of the wizarding world. Furthermore, Snape had only briefly touched on the new rules of the school.

It was much, _much_ worse than they thought it sounded.

Students – _mudbloods – _they were being tortured for no other reason than being a Mudblood. Even purebloods traitors were tortured. Something in the back of Draco's mind nagged him – did he ever do that? – but he chose to ignore it, focusing on how exactly the Carrows chose to teach their subjects.

Muggle Studies wasn't exactly the study of muggles, but more, What Muggles Do Disgustingly Wrong. Draco hated that class. Though he didn't like muggles any more than the next pureblood, they kept their snotty noses out of their business. He didn't see what the point was to bother them, much less kill them.

That was definitely different than what he used to think.

He shuddered at every realization.

Defence Against the Dark Arts had become The Dark Arts. Again, Draco would have thrilled – if it wasn't for the Unforgiveable curses. He couldn't imagine that if Dumbledore was still alive, he would stand for students learning them. Furthermore, practicing on students who got detentions.

Every time he pointed his wand towards a tiny, freckly little midget who did something like drop their quill in the middle of class (the Carrows gave detentions for _everything_) and said 'crucio', he felt like something inside his chest was compressing. And not in the good way, like what happened when he saw Astoria.

It was like something was crumpling and dying.

And the worst part that he didn't usually _care_, but now he did, and it was driving him crazy. At first, he thought Neville Longbottom was crazy when he refused to torture students, but now Draco understood why he did it. But he didn't have the courage to stand up to the Carrows – he wasn't a Gryffindor. He shuddered every time they walked by, their sneers permanently etched into his mind. They _grinned_ when some was being tortured. Like they were enjoying someone else's pain.

Then… they crossed the line.

* * *

Draco didn't really consider their get-togethers _dates_, per se. He showered, sure. Astoria smelled nice, too. They'd walk along the outskirts of the forest and talk… snog… but they did that every day. It was the sane part of his day – right after classes ended, before tea.

Was it a date to her?

Might've been. But he wasn't betting on it.

So he wasn't _too_ surprised when Astoria was wearing her uniform, but he was a little surprised. Usually she wore dresses when she didn't have to be in uniform. She loved those dresses – hell, Draco could admit he loved the dresses. They revealed her legs, after all. But there she was, in the middle of March, wearing her uniform instead of freezing to death in a dress, like she usually did.

He smiled and straightened up as she approached him. She was smiling weakly. He held out his hand for her to take, but to his surprise (again), she grasped it and pulled him close.

"Hey," he said gently, his arms slipping around her waist. "Are you okay?"

She breathed deeply. "Yeah." She linked their hands together and they began to walk. Again, Draco was surprised when Astoria was leading him into the forest.

What was going on?

"Astoria?" he asked uneasily. "Where are we going?"

"Nowhere," she said absent-mindedly. She stopped after only ten steps and turned to Draco, reaching for his other hand. Could she sense his fear of the Forbidden Forest? He'd always tried to hide it. Her hands slipped up his chest and around his neck. "I missed you today."

"Really?" He could contain his smile, leaning in to brush his lips over hers. "What for?"

"No reason." She led him over to the small, trickling stream a couple metres away and sat at the edge. "I don't really feel like walking, is that okay?"

"Of course." They sat, and Astoria shifted between his legs, resting her back against his chest and leaning into him. Draco stroked her hair, listening to her breathing grow deeper, more relaxed. His worries grew as she dozed off on his shoulder. She didn't fall asleep that quickly. Ever.

He felt very odd. Usually it was her who was jabbering excitedly into his ear, but that day, when she wasn't sleeping, she was just… quiet. And he didn't know how to fill up the silence – not that he felt he _needed _to – but he sensed something was wrong, and there was something she wasn't telling him.

But she would. Eventually.

Right?

She inhaled sharply as she woke, straightening and then slumping again. She felt around for his hands and brought them tight around her waist. He squeezed slightly, and she turned around to smile at him.

"Long day?" he asked.

"Yeah." She yawned and snuggling deeper into him. "Sorry I keep falling asleep. I'm so tired."

He kissed the side of her head, and she smiled. "I don't mind."

Draco watched her as she fell asleep against his shoulder again, not waking for at least fifteen minutes. He actually enjoyed holding her in his arms like that. He didn't know why, but it comforted him – and he supposed it comforted Astoria, too. But then the strangest thing began to happen.

Astoria mumbled in her sleep. She never did that, either. The incoherent words were jumbled together – and then she began moaning loudly. And thrashing. Draco tried to hold her arms firmly at her sides, but she slipped out of his group, violently jerking. He could only watch helplessly, calling her name over and over as she cried out garbled words, tears falling down her face.

Finally, he gathered the water from the stream in his hand and splashed her forehead.

She yelped and woke, panting heavily.

For those first few moments, they could only stare at each other. Then she broke his gaze, her head falling back onto the forest floor, shaking and crying. Draco felt as though he'd been stunned.

After she sniffed and sat up, she stumbled over to his frozen figure, hissing as she fell into him. He noticed that she clutched her abdomen tightly, but she didn't seem aware of it. She kept shuddering into his shoulder, soaking his shirt.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry."

"Why?" he asked numbly, finding his voice again. "What's wrong, Astoria?"

She leant back and shook her head, still clutching tightly around her waist. Draco's heart thudded in his ears as he undid her buttons, like he had so many times over the summer. But it was different this time. His fingers didn't feel like his own. He almost didn't want to do it – didn't want to know.

He eased her hands away from her middle and pushed the shirt apart. A huge, white bandage wrapped around her waist. Blood was faintly seeping through, but not enough to stain the shirt. Draco looked up, tears in his eyes.

"You escaped from the hospital wing to come here," he said, his voice hollow.

She shook her head, but it was pointless. "I had to come."

"Astoria –"

"I needed you," she whispered quietly.

"_I would've come to the hospital wing!_" he exploded, feeling as though his lungs had suddenly caught on fire. He couldn't take his eyes off her wound. "How could you just – Merlin, you're _hurt_, what in the bloody hell were you thinking?"

She stared at him in disbelief. "You would've come?"

"Without _fucking question_!" he shouted, running his hands through his hair. "How could you ever doubt that, Astoria? You're my best friend, my girlfriend and I –" _I love you._ His eyes cast to the ground. They were burning and beginning to leak. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Astoria started crying again. "I thought you'd be ashamed of me."

"_Ashamed?_"

"I told them to fuck off!" she shouted through her tears. She heaved another breath, clutching her middle. "The Carrows. They told me to use the Cruciatus Curse on this first year, and I couldn't do it."

He couldn't breathe. "Why not?"

"Because it's _wrong_!" she cried out, locking her eyes with his. He felt exposed. "Those firsts years – they're just _kids._ They didn't do anything wrong, and – and I don't care if I'm a _pureblood._" She spat the word. "It's wrong. It's all wrong, and I hate him."

"Who?"

"Voldemort."

A deep shiver ran through his body as his name fell past her lips. He looked away from her, not bothering the wipe the tears running down his face. "You – you _promised_ you wouldn't do this. You promised you wouldn't call attention to yourself."

She began buttoning up her shirt again. "I guess we're even then, aren't we?"

Something inside him broke. This is why he never made promises – he could never keep them. The year before, when his father was leading him away from Hogwarts, he wanted to go back so badly. Just to check that she'd kept her end of the promise. The worst part was that he _knew_ she would, and that's why he didn't insist on going back, in the end. That promise wasn't for him – it was for her.

"Astoria," he began, his voice cracking in between. "You – you realize they'll never leave you alone. You'll be like Longbottom. They targeted his family, and they injure him daily."

"I can handle pain."

"I can't." He shook his head. "Not yours."

They stood there for what felt like hours. He felt like he wanted to shake her, make her realize what she'd done. Another part of him wanted to kiss her senseless, because he wasn't ashamed – he was so_, so_ proud of her. She had strength in her that stood up for what she believed in. He just wished she wasn't hurt in the process.

"I just needed to see you," she said into the silence, throwing her vulnerability into the winds. "Even if – even if I broke my promise – you understand _why_, though, right Draco?" she asked desperately. "I'm sorry, I just… I can't stand it. I've never liked Gryffindors, but… they're right. They're on the right side. Not us."

He wiped his eyes. He was only vaguely aware that this was the first time he'd allowed himself to cry in front of her. "I know."

"You –"

"I _know_, Astoria," he said thickly. "I know Potter's right. Killing mudbloods – it's not right. I know that now."

She stepped forward, filling the space in between them. "How long have you known?"

"I dunno. Somewhere in between… threatening to kill my family…" He gripped her waist, careful not to touch her wound. "… maybe when I met him. When I really _met_ the Dark Lord." He dropped his forehead on hers. "He's terrifying."

"Do you get nightmares?"

"Yeah." Her arms circled around his neck. "Who doesn't?"

"I can't curse students." She swallowed. "I got away with faking it… not knowing how to do the spell… but they tortured it out of me, now. They knew I was lying." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I broke my promise."

He closed his eyes. "I just want you to make it out alive."

Astoria's hands gripped his collar, pressing him closer and speaking against his lips. "I love you."

Draco's hands cupped her face as he kissed her urgently, pressing her as close as he could. He wanted to be able to do that for the rest of her life. In a life with Voldemort as his master, he couldn't imagine living when he failed to complete his orders. All he wanted was Astoria, in his arms. Forever.

And even though it killed him, he watched as she was tortured and injured. The hospital wing became his second home.

Every time she needed him, he was there.

* * *

Draco was lost.

The world felt as though it was crumbling beneath his feet. There were giants, giant spiders, statues, suits of armor, house elves, Death Eaters, Dementors, aurors, teachers, students… everywhere was chaotic, and death was everywhere.

And what side was he on, anyway?

But as he pushed through the war and the remains, there was only one person on his mind – and he intended to keep his promise this time. His legs were numb and on fire all at once, spells flying everywhere he could see, but he couldn't stop. Nobody was looking at him as he practically flew into the Owlery, racing up the stairs, his heart hammering in his chest from… _everything…_

As he reached the top steps of the Owlery and found Astoria… it was as though he fell apart. He fell to his knees as she rushed to his side. His head was spinning as she held him, holding a goblet of water to his lips, asking if he was okay, but of _course_ he was okay, because she was…

"I love you," he mumbled in her hair. She froze and found his eyes. They were tired, but fixed on her. Like he would never get enough. He dropped the goblet and kissed her gently. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Astoria began to cry, murmuring her response against his lips. She was bruised everywhere, he was bloody and cut and aching and one of his best friend was dead and he couldn't find his parents and he just hurt. Everywhere.

Because that's what war did. It broke them into a million pieces.

And as they found their escape in each other, they began to put themselves back together.


End file.
